


lonely without you;

by dawnofthursday



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Damen, Bottom Laurent, Consensual Hate Sex, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Rimming, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnofthursday/pseuds/dawnofthursday
Summary: Laurent was entitled to good sex; he deserved it. It didn't matter that it was Damianos of Akielos giving it to him; he was merely a vessel upon which Laurent was receiving pleasure. It didn't mean anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonmage27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmage27/gifts).



> This is all because [Sara](http://sarabelium.tumblr.com/) was kind enough to share a fail sex cruise story she had. Thank you. 
> 
> Come say [hi](http://americancupsofbritishtea.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Slight warning: There is a moment in the beginning when Laurent believes he engaged in drunken sex or what could be interpreted as the aftermath of nonconsensual sex, which is not the case. He did not, and the matter gets resolved quickly. There is no reference to past abuse, because none of that happened in this universe.

One moment he was asleep, and the next he was wide awake, as instantaneous as a lightning strike. Before any coherent thoughts could enter his head—his pounding, thumping head which for once wasn’t caused by blueprints and plans and strategies—Laurent ran to the door he somehow knew was a bathroom and vomited in the toilet.  
  
Consciousness came to him slowly, as did remembrance. Memories were sluggish in his mind as he desperately tried to recollect on how he'd gotten to this point of throwing up violently in the bathroom. His mind was entirely blank on the journey back to his room the night before.  
  
He started shivering. At first he thought it was because of his nausea, but then soon realized it was probably because he was entirely naked sitting on the cold, tiled floor.  
  
"What the hell…"  
  
He didn't normally sleep in the nude.  
  
Getting up slowly, groggily, he flushed away the evidence of his overdrinking, splashed water on his face at the sink, and rinsed out his mouth. His head was still pounding like a drum when he noticed a bruise on the side of his neck in the reflection.  
  
"What the hell," he repeated, a little louder, a little panicked.  
  
As he gingerly touched the sore area—definitely a hickey, there was no way to deny that—he then slowly took notice of several other bruises—hickeys, they were hickeys—at various spots on his body, including his chest, hipbone, and inner thigh. His eyes were wide as he looked at himself. Feeling a little afraid, he reached around himself and felt dried lube between his buttocks, and then began to fear the worst.  
  
Laurent felt like he was going to be sick again, and not from the excessive alcohol he had consumed the night before. In fact, as more of last night began to resurface, he found himself clutching the edges of the toilet again and emptied whatever was left in his stomach.  
  
He was on a cruise with Auguste, who had challenged him last night to "let loose" and "live a little," clichéd last words that unfortunately worked on Laurent, after being hounded by Auguste the past few days. They had taken the trip together as a reward for closing with a major client, and it was meant to be relaxing and celebratory. So Laurent had put away his laptop and went to the bar with Auguste. He should have known better than to drink; he never drank. Ever. Of course he got drunk. That didn't explain the hickeys, and he was determinedly not thinking about his other discovery yet. Surely Auguste wouldn't have left him to the wiles of a stranger?  
  
He went to wipe his face on the towel at the rack when he realized it wasn't there. With a quick double take, he also realized that wasn’t his toothbrush at the sink, or his shampoo in the shower.  
  
Had Auguste really been so negligent last night that he allowed Laurent to be whisked away to some stranger’s room?! Laurent vaguely remembered Auguste telling him he was getting another drink at the bar, and so he stepped away. That must've been when Laurent left the bar with the man who gave him the bruises—hickeys, like he was back in high school.  
  
Squaring his shoulders because he felt he needed to face the situation at least looking more in control, Laurent walked out of the bedroom and faced the man on the other side.  
  
He barely took notice of the room, how it was nice and expensive like Laurent's with a view of the ocean and its own balcony. His vision ignored the messily discarded clothing around the room and zeroed in on the dark-skinned man in the bed.  
  
"Oh, fuck," Laurent exclaimed loudly.  
  
It was loud enough to startle the man into awakening, who slowly turned from laying on his stomach to stretching his long arms over his messy head, rubbing at his hair absentmindedly as he yawned. He was mumbling unintelligently, and Laurent was definitely not taking note of the bare chest and strong muscles of _Damianos of Akielos_.  
  
Laurent stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes hard and cold, and waited for Damianos to become fully awake. Laurent was pissed that the giant animal didn't need to immediately throw up like he had, but thought savagely that Damianos probably found himself in this situation frequently, the despicable playboy.  
  
And great, Laurent thought. He had apparently become another notch on his bedpost. What the fuck was Damianos even doing on this cruise?!  
  
"What time is it—"  
  
Damianos's wide, confused eyes met his and he stopped mid-sentence, his whole body frozen, a hand still in his hair. Laurent noticed him quickly take stock of Laurent's nakedness and the spots darkening his pale skin. Laurent also saw his eyes darken as if he couldn't help himself, before he swallowed and tampered it down.  
  
"No way," Damianos finally uttered, recognition in his eyes. "No fucking way. Oh, no… no no no."  
  
Laurent watched as panic crawled its way into Damianos's face, and was almost placated by the look of sheer terror that won out as his dominant expression. Viciously, Laurent was pleased that suddenly Damianos did look like he'd be sick.  
  
Damianos jumped out of bed and Laurent steadfastly kept his eyes on his face. Damianos was also naked.  
  
"This is a joke, right?" Damianos pleaded. "You're playing a joke on me. There's no way that we…"  
  
"There's lube between my ass-checks," Laurent said with barely contained fury, his fists clenched at his sides. "That's not a fucking joke."  
  
Damianos noticed something on the floor and picked it up. It was a condom. An empty condom. He looked relieved as he thrust it in Laurent's face. "It's empty. I didn't come. We didn't have sex!"  
  
Laurent quickly walked around the room and into the bathroom, looking on the floor and trashcans for a used condom, but didn’t find one. That was slightly comforting, but still… "You arrogant prick, that's not the only way it works. Just because you didn’t come doesn't mean you didn't fuck me," he said.  
  
But Damianos's face was smug when Laurent turned back to look at him. "Are you feeling sore, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice mocking. "No offense, but you're walking normally, so I feel pretty confident that we didn't have sex last night."  
  
Laurent followed through with his first impulse and shoved Damianos as hard as he could, knocking him back. "You fucking asshole."  
  
Damianos caught his wrists and held them easily. "This is a good thing. We didn't have drunken sex last night!" His eyes started roaming Laurent's body, slowly and leisurely, and Laurent squirmed. "It looks like we got close though."  
  
Laurent wrenched his hands back and put distance between them. "Fuck off, as if I'd ever fuck you after what you did to my brother."  
  
"Well, the feeling is mutual, sweetheart. Don’t forget about what you did to _me_! You almost ruined my life over that petty stunt."  
  
Damianos had leaned in as he shouted, and Laurent shoved him again, because it felt satisfying.  
  
"Good." Laurent spat out the word violently. "You'd deserve it. I wish it had ruined your life. You nearly ruined his!"  
  
"You— infuriating—" Damianos was so angry he was spitting. "You don't even know what happened!"  
  
"I can't believe I even let you touch me last night!"  
  
"By the state of your body, I did more than just touch, sweetheart."  
  
"Stop fucking calling me that," Laurent said with another shove. "How would I even know? I could have already been unconscious and you were taking advantage of me."  
  
"Don't even fucking joke about that, Laurent!" Damianos shouted, and when had they gotten so close to each other? Laurent could see the specs of gold in Damianos' brown eyes and he didn't like it. He didn't like what it was doing to him. "Why do you think I was so fucking relieved the condom was empty?!"  
  
The earnestness in his eyes actually momentarily stunned Laurent into speechlessness. It was an unexpected comment. Laurent needed to take a step back, immediately. The heat in Damianos' eyes were too intense, his body too close. They were breathing each other's air.  
  
"Fuck you," Laurent said, before grabbing Damianos' head and crushing their lips together, hard, their teeth clanking.  
  
As far as kisses went, it sucked.  
  
"God, your breath smells terrible, did you fucking throw up," Damen said against his lips.  
  
"Yes, you asshole," Laurent replied, before sticking his tongue in Damianos's mouth.  
  
Damianos's hands on his body were hard, firm and confident. They were both still naked and it took nothing, no time, no thought, before Laurent was beneath Damianos on the bed, their mouths still battling with open, wet kisses.  
  
"I think I remember," Laurent said, biting Damianos's lip hard. "You couldn't fucking keep it up last night, you were so drunk."  
  
Damianos bit the side of Laurent's neck, a sharp pain before a warm tongue ran over it. He looked up at Laurent and maintained eye contact as he thrust against him. "Is that a challenge?"  
  
"Fuck me," Laurent said in reply. "If you can."  
  
"Well, since you asked so nicely," Damianos said, and Laurent kicked him with his foot in return. "Are you always this goddamn violent in bed?" But he was grabbing the lube from where it had rolled off the bed, and then his finger was in Laurent's ass, so Laurent stopped caring.  
  
Damianos was the fucking worst, but Laurent wasn't too proud to deny that he was attractive, and Laurent didn't mind using him for his pleasure. His fingers were thick, and he knew how to use them.  
  
"I figure I must've gotten this far last night," Damianos said.  
  
Laurent sneered, “Shut up and fuck me. This isn't my first time, you don’t have to baby me."  
  
"You're such a—" Damianos said in frustration, with a pointed thrust of fingers, but it was three this time, so Laurent took it as a win.  
  
Laurent was starting to get impatient. "No wonder we didn’t fuck last night," he said, trying but failing to keep the whine out of his voice. He was actively fucking himself on Damianos's fingers, the low heat building as he began to feel desperate for something bigger to fill him. "You take forever to prep. I'm ready. Fuck me."  
  
Damianos bit the inside of Laurent's thigh, and sucked hard enough to leave what would be another mark against his pale skin. His fingers withdrew and he rolled on a condom. Laurent took a quick look and he licked his lips unconsciously as his excitement grew. No wonder Damianos had been so confident they hadn't fucked the night before; Laurent was likely to be sore after this. That was the only look he got before Damianos flipped him so Laurent was on his knees, resting on his elbows .  
  
"Get on with it," Laurent snapped.  
  
"Are you sure you want this?"  
  
Was this guy for real?  
  
"I know who you are, Damianos, and I want you to fuck me."  
  
As if those were the magic words, suddenly Laurent was completely wrapped up in Damianos, who had a hand at his hip, holding him steady. Laurent felt Damianos line himself up and then slide in, slow and solid.  
  
Laurent couldn't help himself. He groaned loudly at the initial push. Damianos was kissing along his back, an arm wrapped around his chest, his thighs aligned with his, his cock fully inside him, and Laurent felt caged.  
  
No. That wasn't--  
  
Laurent felt _safe_.  
  
But that couldn't be right, either.  
  
Instead of thinking about it, Laurent gave in to his primal needs and fucked backwards, and soon Damianos was fucking into him, maintaining a steady rhythm that had Laurent fisting the bed sheets as he rode it out. Soon he allowed his body to be held up only by Damianos' strength, allowing the pleasure of a good fucking to spread delightfully through his body, and he felt drunk again, but better. Damianos still had one hand possessively on his hip, moving Laurent's body in tandem with his thrusts, and the other now wrapped around Laurent's cock. His sure, confidence movements were hitting Laurent just where he needed, every time.  
  
It was good. It was really good. Laurent couldn't even remember being fucked this good in the past, and wasn't that the _worst_... Damianos, no matter how good he was at fucking, was still goddamn Damianos, his personal archenemy.  
  
Laurent could tell Damianos was close, because he was talking unchecked in his native tongue. "Laurent, this feels so good. I've wanted— you are so— fuck, Laurent, you feel so good."  
  
"Damen," Laurent said, the word slipping out. His voice was on edge; he was close. "Damen."  
  
Laurent was the first to come, spilling into Damen's hand, and then three forceful, deep thrusts later, Damen stuttered and groaned, and then stilled.  
  
Oh, fuck.  
  
-  
  
Laurent allowed himself few mistakes in life. Kissing Damianos while sober and in full capacity of his mind was a mistake. He got swept up in the heat of the argument and the way Damianos' eyes flashed at him. If the universe had been kind, it would have been terrible sex that left Laurent unsatisfied. However, because the universe was not kind to him, it was actually some of the best sex he'd ever had.  
  
That was how Laurent justified his current position, spread-eagle against the wall of Damianos' room, on the last day before they docked, Damianos' face between his checks, his tongue fucking into him.  
  
Laurent was entitled to good sex; he deserved it. It didn't matter that it was Damianos of Akielos giving it to him; he was merely a vessel upon which Laurent was receiving pleasure. It didn't mean anything. He was still an annoying fucking prick, just an annoying fucking prick who happened to be really good at fucking.  
  
Laurent loved getting his ass eaten. If he was in a particular mood, he'd say he loved it even more than getting fucked. None of his past partners had exactly loved eating ass. Damianos—who was not a partner, he was a mistake, albeit a reoccurring mistake—was eating Laurent's ass like a champ, with unabashed enthusiasm and joy, his tongue playing at the rim knowing it made Laurent's breath catch, before thrusting inside and making him cry out.  
  
They had struck up a particularly good rhythm, Laurent fucking backwards and Damianos meeting him, his hands powerfully flexing over the flesh of Laurent's ass. Laurent knew there would be bruises there, to add to his collection.  
  
With the pleasure spiking through his body, the heat pooling in his own, untouched cock, Laurent at this moment didn't give a fuck who Damianos was.  
  
He made sure, after he came in his hands from Damianos's tongue still licking inside, to clean himself up and leave without returning the favor. That should ensure this never happened again, if their paths should ever cross in the future.  
  
-  
  
"I still haven't forgiven you for what you did on the cruise."  
  
Auguste turned to give him incredulous look. "What! That was weeks ago, and I thought it was what you wanted. Why would you even bring this up now?"  
  
Laurent looked across the building's grand lobby and saw Damianos standing some ways away, looking both professional and indecent in a tailored business suit. He was talking with his business partner, Nikandros.  
  
"I don’t suppose the client mentioned it would be a double meeting?"  
  
Auguste followed his line of sight. "They are a big client. It makes sense to let us know who we're competing against for their business."  
  
When Laurent didn’t reply, still burning holes in the side of Damianos' face, Auguste continued. "I told you to stop that. The vendetta you have against him on my behalf is ridiculous."  
  
Laurent snapped at him. "No, what's ridiculous is you letting me go back to his rooms, knowing I have a vendetta against him!"  
  
Auguste sagged. "I already apologized for that. It was weeks ago. And you said nothing even happened."  
  
Damianos noticed them, and stared back at Laurent. Laurent's breath caught without his permission, and he felt himself responding to the heat in Damianos' eyes.  
  
Auguste was right. It had been weeks.  
  
Which is why he found himself, after the meeting, with his heart racing, lying to Auguste that he had forgotten something in the conference room and would meet him down in the lobby. His eyes caught Damianos', who had heard him, who was saying something to Nikandros that sounded like an excuse.  
  
Laurent's palms were sweaty with anticipation and adrenaline from his boldness. He walked into the single-user bathroom on the other end of the hallway and kept the door unlocked. It wasn't long before the door opened and Damianos walked in. He did lock the door.  
  
"We should probably stop meeting like this," Damianos said, beginning to loosen the knot of his tie, his voice low.  
  
"What are you talking about," Laurent quipped, stepping up to crowd Damianos against the door. "This is the first time we've ever met here."  
  
Their lips met and it was violent, consuming, a battle for dominance. Their tongues met and it was rough, Laurent pressing as close to Damianos as he could. Damianos responded in kind, his large hands possessive on his back, holding him close.  
  
"I’m going to get that client," Laurent said against Damianos's lips before biting them.  
  
Before Laurent could think, Damianos switched them so Laurent’s back was against the door. Damianos’ hand found its way to Laurent’s hair and he pressed their hips together. "Oh, is that what you think?" Damianos said with an air of indifference, licking up the side of Laurent's neck.  
  
"You saw the way Torveld was looking at me," Laurent replied, throwing his head back to allow Damianos better access. Damianos' other hand was undoing his belt.  
  
Damianos' head lifted and his eyes were dark and heavy with lust-filled intent. "Yes, I did."  
  
Laurent shivered unwillingly.  
  
With quick efficiency, Damianos pulled Laurent's pants and briefs down just enough for his cock to spring free, and then fell on his knees and engulfed him with his mouth.  
  
It wasn't kind, or gentle. Damianos wasn't teasing or testing the waters. He sucked Laurent's cock like he owned it, rough and brutal and it made Laurent cry out before remembering he was in a place of business. A place of business where the client he wanted to work with was just around the hall.  
  
But like everything else Damianos did, he did it well, and Laurent found himself shallowly thrusting into his mouth, losing himself in the sensations of the wet heat surrounding him. Damianos could take him all the way into his mouth, and was deep-throating him. Laurent had a hand curled tightly in Damianos' hair, gently guiding; his other hand over his mouth to hold back his moans.  
  
"Oh fuck," Laurent said, helpless. "Fuck, fuck, Damen."  
  
Damen just hummed, and the vibrations were felt from the tips of Laurent's toes to top of his head, and he came in Damen's mouth.  
  
Damianos, the champ, swallowed easily. He stood up and looked critically at Laurent, who was still catching his breath, leaning against the bathroom door with hooded eyes. Laurent glanced down as he fixed himself, and the bulge in the front of Damianos's pants was absolutely indecent, if not a little enticing.  
  
"Auguste is waiting for me downstairs," Laurent said.  
  
"You'd owe me twice."  
  
"Is that what you think this is." It wasn’t a question.  
  
"I may even make it three times for emotional damages. Leaving me unsatisfied is starting to hurt my feelings."  
  
But Damianos looked calm and unaffected, which was even more annoying to Laurent, somehow. Maintaining eye contact, Laurent undid Damianos's belt, and then shoved his hand inside his pants, gripping his cock tight. Damianos, standing in the middle of the bathroom, took hold of the sink to steady himself as Laurent began moving his hand.  
  
He felt huge in Laurent's hand, warm and soft, but rigid. Next time he was getting this back inside of him. It didn't take long for Damianos to come, biting his lip to hold back a moan, not once looking away from Laurent.  
  
Laurent withdrew his hand, washed them, and then left the bathroom without a backwards glance.  
  
Auguste was sitting in the lobby, waiting for him.  
  
"Where have you been— why is your face all red? Nikandros is also waiting for Damen— did you get into a fight with him?!"  
  
Laurent just kept walking out the building, trusting Auguste to keep up with him, and mumbled, "Not exactly."  
  
-  
  
The next time it happened, Laurent couldn’t come up with an excuse. He had been scrolling through his phone, looking up the number for a current client, when he noticed a new entry: "Booty Call - DV."  
  
After arrived home from work that day, quelling down nervousness, Laurent called it.  
  
"Damen," Damianos answered.  
  
"When the hell did you put your number in my phone?" Laurent said, allowing the guise to be anger. It was loud on the other end, like Damen was out at a bar.  
  
"Oh, hello Laurent. You didn't notice me do it on the last day of the cruise?" Damen yelled over the background noise. "I am pretty good at eating ass. I guess you were too distracted to notice."  
  
"Don't get cocky; you're not that good."  
  
Damianos wasn't convinced. "Uh huh. Why are you calling me then?"  
  
"To— yell at you for— invading my privacy and putting your number in my phone!"  
  
"You could have just deleted it."  
  
"It's the principle of the matter."  
  
"Look," Damianos said, and suddenly it was quieter on the other end, like he had stepped outside for the call. "We _could_ keep up this pointless banter, or you could text me your address and I'll come over and fuck you so good you can't walk the next day. It's up to you."  
  
Laurent involuntarily shuddered, and was glad Damianos couldn't see him. "Shut up," he said, and then hung up.  
  
It was embarrassing how little time Laurent spent contemplating whether or not to do it. He knew he would have no excuse; it wasn't opportunistic if he sought it out. But he was stressed and still waiting to hear back from Torveld, and really wanted to be fucked.  
  
Twenty minutes after he sent the text, there was a knock at his door. He opened it, and made sure to say, "Don’t get comfortable."  
  
Damianos walked it with his hands held up, as if in surrender. "I know the rules."  
  
"Good," Laurent said, and then immediately pulled Damianos to him.  
  
Laurent ended up getting fucked against his wall, with Damianos holding him up with his sheer strength, easily moving Laurent onto his cock. If Laurent could have felt anything other than near-blinding pleasure, he would have been a little ashamed at how much he was turned on by that. Damianos's muscles were bulging with the strain, but not slowing down his ruthless rhythm.  
  
Laurent didn't think he'd ever come as hard in his life, and as promised, Damianos cleaned up after himself and left with a mocking salute and a smirk.  
  
"Till next time, sweetheart," Damianos said on his way out.  
  
"Fuck you," Laurent said in reply, but it was lacking its normal heat and almost came out fond. Almost.  
  
-  
  
Damianos made the next move, which Laurent thought was particularly bold of him; he was enjoying commanding these trysts.  
  
Torveld gave them the bad news once he had gathered all four of them back in his office that actually, yes, he wanted both companies to work on the project together, and as he was a rather big client, neither Auguste nor Damianos was going to back out. Except apparently Laurent managed to charm Torveld enough to be made project leader.  
  
Laurent could tell Damianos was pissed, knew that Damianos thought he should be leader, as he had more experience than any of the others. Laurent also knew he drove a tight ship, and was delegating tasks to Damianos that the older man thought was beneath him.  
  
It finally boiled over a week and a half in, after Auguste had gone home for the day to be with his wife and young son, and Nikandros left to head to the nearest bar for a drink (or four). Laurent and Damianos were still arguing over specifics, and Laurent knew he was right—it wasn't even arrogance, it was just the truth.  
  
"I have been doing this _at least_ six years longer than you," Damianos said, his voice raised over blueprints.  
  
Laurent was calm, and rolled his eyes. "Just because that's how it's always been done doesn't mean it's the right way anymore. If you kept up with the latest architectural literature, you'd know that."  
  
Damianos threw his hands up in the air in a dramatic gesture of frustration. "Fine! We can do it your way, and when you fuck up, perhaps Torveld will make me project leader, and then I can make you do every menial task I dream up."  
  
Laurent's eyes flashed. "You idiot. Is that what you think I've been having you do? The fact that you can't see these small tasks as part of the larger project just further proves that I'm best as leader. If you only look at the larger picture, you can't see the miniscule details it requires to make it there!"  
  
Somehow in their argument they'd ended up nose to nose, making angry eyes at each other. As soon as Laurent became aware of this knowledge, like a flash of sudden surety, he knew how it would end. He could see Damianos thinking through what he wanted to do: keep yelling, or change the tone. One moment Damianos looked conflicted, and the next his eyes were lidded and he was smiling softly.  
  
"I do pay attention to minor details," Damianos said, but it was more of a whisper and his eyes were looking down at Laurent's lips.  
  
Laurent held firm, standing straight and still, even as Damianos moved his hand to press feather light touches to his neck. This was his opportunity to put an end to this; now that they were working together, this was dangerous. This could risk the project. Laurent would have to see Damianos' face nearly every day. Laurent needed to step back and establish boundaries.  
  
"For example," Damianos continued, "I know your neck is _very_ sensitive."  
  
Damianos replaced his hand with his lips, and Laurent bit his, hard, to keep his body from reacting. He still had time to step back.  
  
"And the larger picture?" Laurent asked instead, his voice not as steady as he wanted it to be.  
  
Damianos was undoing Laurent's tie, and placing heated kisses around his collarbone. "Oh, are you tired of the tiny details already?"  
  
Laurent grabbed Damianos' hair and pulled him until they were kissing. Damianos' hands continued undressing Laurent, all the while they pressed hard kisses on each other. Laurent eventually found himself sitting on the work desk in the room, Damianos kissing along his chest, biting at his nipples, and putting new marks on his collarbone, while Laurent just leaned back and luxuriated in the attention.  
  
"Since I'm teaching you about minor details--"  
  
"Oh, is that what you're doing," Damianos mumbled, preoccupied at Laurent's neck.  
  
Laurent ignored him. "--what else do you have in mind?"  
  
"Figuring out where to get lube," he said absent-mindedly.  
  
Laurent made a chastising sound, and laid down across the desk until he could reach the drawers on the other side, and reached inside one. When he pulled out a condom and bottle of lube, Damianos, still ridiculously fully dressed, began smiling wickedly.  
  
"I guess you are teaching me about minor details," he said, fighting back a laugh. He quickly divested himself of his clothes while Laurent did the same of his own.  
  
Laurent turned until he was standing against the desk, exposing himself to Damianos in wordless instruction, who immediately stepped up with his fingers coated in lube. Laurent tried to be careful with the contents on the desk, but it was a failed effort, as which each thrust of Damianos's fingers, Laurent knocked papers, pens and even the stapler off the desk.  
  
"God, come on," Laurent pleaded. "I'm ready, do it. Fuck me."  
  
Then it wasn't Damianos' fingers at his entrance, but the tip of his cock, and Laurent took a deep breath as it entered him, slowly, and he could feel his body stretching to accommodate as Damianos slid all the way in.  
  
Damianos bottomed out and stilled, and only their heavy breathing was heard, nothing else disturbing the dark night. His hands, warm and calloused, were running along Laurent's back, his chest, soothing.  
  
Something felt different this time, but Laurent wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps it was the fact that they were doing this as actual colleagues; doing this in their office.  
  
Slowly, Damianos pulled out until just the tip of his cock remained, and then, even slower, he thrust back in, and Laurent cried out. Damianos repeated this a few more times until Laurent felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, tingling, singing with unsatisfied pleasure. He was going to be teased to death, but die the happiest man on the planet.  
  
"Damen," Laurent breathed. "Please. Fuck. Go faster. Please."  
  
The hands around his body tightened, as if on reflex, and Damianos pulled all the way out. "I want to see you," he whispered, turning Laurent around.  
  
But Laurent's mind, running a mile a minute, feeling desperate and aching for Damianos' cock to get back inside of him, knew they couldn't fuck facing each other against the desk; the angle wasn't going to work. He glanced at Damianos, who looked as crazed as Laurent felt, and knew he'd come to the same realization, and he groaned in frustration.  
  
Laurent held back a comment about forming bigger pictures without considering the minor details, because he noticed the chair. He grabbed at Damen and pushed him until he was sitting down, and then Laurent climbed on top of him, and quickly lowered himself, impaling himself on Damen's cock.  
  
Their groans of pleasure were twinned and Damen's hands wrapped around Laurent's waist to better hold him steady, and then they were fucking in earnest. With each movement down, Damen was there to meet him with a thrust up, and Laurent's blood was singing, his head thrown back in abandon, his hand curled tightly at the hair on Damen's nape as they moved together.  
  
Damen's face was almost reverent, his face open and unguarded, and Laurent didn't know what to do with that; he felt like some line had been crossed, and he didn't know what to do with that, either.  
  
-  
  
Laurent luxuriated in early mornings. There was no traffic on the roads except for a few early starters, plenty of parking spaces in the garage, and nobody to bother him as he scanned himself in to the building and headed up to the work room.  
  
He was already thinking of what he wanted to get done before everyone else arrived when he stepped into the elevator and heard his name being called out.  
  
"Laurent! Hey! Hold the elevator!"  
  
Laurent gave a long-suffering sigh, and turned to see that it was Damianos rushing to get in before the doors closed. Urgently, Laurent pressed the button to close the door repeatedly, and he almost got his wish of a quiet ride up before Damianos' giant hand caught the door and it opened for him.  
  
Damianos looked scandalized. "Did you— were you pressing the 'close door' button?"  
  
Laurent crossed his arms and was definitely not pouting. "No."  
  
They were silent for a moment as the elevator started moving up to the thirty-fourth floor where their office was.  
  
They had reached the third floor when silently, without breaking his stare that was drilling holes into the side of Laurent's head, Damianos pushed the button to stop on the fourth floor.  
  
"What—" Laurent sputtered. "What are you doing?"  
  
The doors opened to an empty, dark hallway, the seconds ticking as the elevator doors stood open for nobody, and then slowly closed again. Damianos pushed the button for the fifth floor, and Laurent slapped his hand away.  
  
"Stop that."  
  
"What are you talking about, I'm not doing anything."  
  
"Yes you are, stop it."  
  
Damianos pushed the button for the sixth floor, just as the doors opened on the fifth.  
  
"I swear to God, Damianos."  
  
He reached to push the seventh floor button but Laurent grabbed his entire arm to hold him back. Laurent glared at him, but Damianos was just amused. He was not a weak man, something Laurent knew well, and easily moved Laurent with his arm away from the control panel, and used his other gigantic hand to mash as many buttons as he could before Laurent could stop him. He had pushed nearly all the ones on their way up to the thirty-fourth floor.  
  
"If you had just held the door for me," Damianos said from across the elevator.  
  
"I wanted a quiet morning, so sue me!" Laurent couldn’t deny he was pouting now.  
  
The door opened to the eighth floor, and Laurent felt his patience waning away with each wasted second, as it seemed the doors were beginning to close even slower.  
  
"I've had my tongue in your ass and you can't even stand an elevator ride with me," Damianos said, suddenly standing next to Laurent, his eyes deliberately wide.  
  
"That's going to be your favorite go-to line, isn't it? And in any case, those are not mutually inclusive activities, you child, and you didn't have to push every goddamn button."  
  
Damianos hummed. "I didn't push the button for the fourteenth floor." Then his eyes grew wicked and he grinned at Laurent. "And those activities could be mutually inclusive. We've got time. No one else is here."  
  
Despite himself, Laurent's face flushed. But he kept his arms crossed and his eyes glued in front of him. "We are at work, Damianos."  
  
Damianos huffed. "We were at work last time, too."  
  
Then.  
  
"We could make out."  
  
It was another terrible idea. But it wasn't any worse than what they'd already done. Which is how Laurent found himself pushed back against the wall of the elevator, his legs twisted around Damianos' waist, as their mouths moved together. Laurent's hands were tangled in Damianos' hair, holding his face in place in case he got any ideas of moving it, and their tongues met, wet and hot.  
  
It wasn't quite the way Laurent imagined starting the morning, but he couldn’t find it in himself to genuinely object.  
  
They ended up missing their exit at the thirty-fourth floor, and very nearly got caught as the elevator got called back down to the first floor. Laurent was hurriedly fixing his hair and trying to smooth his clothes when the doors opened on the ground floor to reveal Nikandros.  
  
For a few seconds they all just stared at each other, frozen, Laurent's face warm, his jacket suddenly too hot. Laurent had no idea what Damianos looked like, and was honestly too fearful to look. The door almost closed on them again, as nobody had moved, but Damianos caught it.  
  
Nikandros looked extremely uncomfortable as he stepped in, as if he wasn't quite sure what he was stepping into, but Laurent rushed out of the elevator and managed to mumble something about forgetting to get coffee this morning in an attempt to salvage the moment.  
  
Hopefully neither of them remembered that he preferred tea.  
  
-  
  
A few days later, Laurent found himself storming to Damianos's apartment, having looked it up. He had been working late, as usual, as project leader, when he noticed a mistake Damianos made on the blueprints. No—it was less a mistake and more Damianos deliberating disobeying what Laurent had decided on. They had argued over this earlier, but Laurent had told Damianos what to do, except apparently Damianos had done the opposite.  
  
Laurent banged on the apartment door he knew to be Damianos'.  
  
"Who the fuck--" Laurent heard Damianos say from the other side. Damianos opened the door roughly, and then just stared at Laurent in shock.  
  
"You deliberately went against my orders," Laurent said, voice as hard as steel.  
  
"Are you fucking serious right now, Laurent?" Damianos was shirtless, wearing loose-fitting sweatpants, and was clearly relaxing at home.  
  
It was then that Laurent realized it was about nine in the evening.  
  
"This couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?" Damianos continued.  
  
Laurent shoved his way inside, and heard Damianos sigh from behind, closing the door with a sharp _bang_. "Yeah, sure, come on in," Laurent heard him mutter under his breath.  
  
Laurent took a quick look around the spacious apartment, before zeroing back in on Damianos.  
  
"I explicitly told you the design we were going with, so I don't know what this shit is that you did today, but you need to fix it, because I can't go forward until it's done right," he yelled.  
  
Damianos shook his head stubbornly, his arms crossed. "I'm serious, Laurent. I'm not going to stand in my own apartment and be yelled at afterhours. You can either fuck me or get the fuck out of my apartment, and we'll deal with this tomorrow."  
  
Laurent was gearing up to reply when Damianos' words registered. "… What did you say? That's not why I came over here."  
  
Damianos gave him a disbelieving look. "Are you still lying to yourself? Are you going to honestly stand there and tell me if Nikandros had made this mistake, you'd be busting down his door to yell at him at nine o’clock at night?"  
  
Laurent was caught short, the words he'd prepared dying on his tongue.  
  
Damianos walked smoothly until they were standing inches away from each other. Laurent stared squarely back. He felt the lack of distance between them sharply, and knew they were breathing the same air.  
  
"Forget the blueprints," Damianos whispered. "I'm inviting you into my bedroom to fuck me."  
  
"I'm still upset with you," Laurent said, but even to his own ears, it sounded weak.  
  
Damianos laughed, and started walking towards what Laurent assumed was his bedroom. "I'd literally expect nothing less from you."  
  
Laurent left the blueprints on the table, forgotten with the promise of giving as good as he'd been given.  
  
Damen didn't bottom very often, something he complained about while Laurent had his fingers in his ass. Apparently, most of Damen's partners in the past would see Damen's cock, and then immediately want to be fucked by it. Laurent couldn't exactly blame them, but there was also something addicting about how expressive Damen was, how open he was with his pleasure, and how much he genuinely seemed to love being fucked.  
  
His powerful thighs came to rest on top of Laurent's as Laurent lined himself up, and he himself felt powerful, having this bulk of a man beneath him. Damen cried out as Laurent entered him, his cock leaking against his chest, one of Damen's heels coming to push at the low of Laurent's back, urging him forward.  
  
"Figures you'd be a dominating bottom," Laurent said, thrusting in.  
  
"I'm just a man who knows what he wants," Damen shot back, distracted, focused on fucking himself on Laurent. "God, you feel so good, Laurent. Fuck, harder."  
  
Laurent rolled his hips, and Damen moaned. The faces he was making alone had Laurent feeling close; then combined with the tight heat of his body, and the way Damen looked absolutely shattered, Laurent felt himself slowing down to make it last.  
  
"Fuck, you look so good, Laurent," Damen was saying, breathless, unchecked. "You're perfect."  
  
A few more thrusts, and Damen came, practically untouched, all over his chest, and the way he tightened around Laurent had Laurent following over mere seconds later.  
  
After they cleaned up, they found themselves back in bed, bitching at each other easily. Laurent would never call it cuddling, but he was resting comfortable in Damen's large arms. It was against Laurent's better judgment not to leave immediately, but something kept him in place.  
  
"I still can't believe you put salt in my coffee that one morning," Damen said, laughing.  
  
"I thought it was sugar," Laurent said, defending himself.  
  
But Damen pushed lightly at him. "No, you didn't. As soon as I took a drink and spat it out, you started laughing."  
  
"I'd apologize, but that was hilarious, even if you did ruin those papers you spit all over. Oh, and don't forget last week when I ate your entire burger so you'd be pissed at Nikandros for thinking he'd only bought you fries."  
  
Damen's head swerved to his. "That was _you_? I thought it was because he'd found out I slept with his sister."  
  
Laurent put a hand to his mouth to hold back his laughter. "You slept with his sister?"  
  
"Literally one time! Five years ago! He had no right to be as mad at me as he was."  
  
Laurent's head rested back in the crook of Damen's neck. "You're ridiculous. And don't think I don’t know it was you who tied that damn blow horn to the bottom of my chair."  
  
"I waited all day for you to sit down," Damen said. "I never realized before just how little you sit down during the day."  
  
"I sat down and almost had a heart attack," Laurent said, accusing, but couldn't disguise his amusement. "And I suppose I can warn you, you may or may not have trouble finding your office supplies soon."  
  
Damen was saying something back, but Laurent’s eyes were feeling heavy and closing, comfortable, and soon he fell asleep, wrapped in Damen's arms.  
  
He woke a few hours before dawn, and slipped out unnoticed.  
  
-  
  
It was a week or so later when Laurent found himself sitting alone in the office again, late in the evening on a Friday, trying to figure out the latest obstacle so his mind could rest. His eyes were beginning to blur with strain, but he was determined. Everyone else had left, having actual lives.  
  
Maybe even Damen—no, Damianos—was out, trying to find a better person to stick his cock in, someone who wouldn't bite so hard.  
  
No.  
  
That wasn't his business in any case, and he didn't care. It didn't matter. His fucks with Damianos were easy and good, no strings attached and no complications. He didn't even like the man—the annoying, over-confident, arrogant asshole.  
  
"Laurent."  
  
Laurent looked up from the desk, and it was Damianos at the doorway, leaning casually with his arms crossed. He had the sleeves of his white button-up shirt rolled up, which made his muscles flex, something Laurent was definitely not noticing. Laurent made himself look at Damianos' face, and blamed his tiredness for the look of fondness he thought he saw there.  
  
"I've ordered Chinese food and it's being delivered to my apartment. Come on. I can't let you stay here all night."  
  
Those strings of sentences, while being grammatically correct, didn't make any sense to Laurent.  
  
Damen's face turned to exasperation as he took in Laurent's confusion.  
  
"I'm not inviting you back to my apartment to fuck," he said.  
  
Laurent's eyebrow arched and his lips pursed.  
  
"Alright, not _just_ so we can fuck. You're our team leader, alright? It isn't good for any of us if you're overworked and not eating. It's just Chinese food, I swear, if that's all you want. But you have to leave this office. You haven't left here before eight this entire week."  
  
All that did was remind Laurent of why he'd been working so late this week. "We have a deadline coming up, as you're aware, and there is much left to do."  
  
Damianos came into the room and stood in front of him. "How can you expect yourself to work at your best if you're not eating or sleeping properly?"  
  
"Why do you even care?" Laurent snapped. "Obviously if I fail, Torveld will make you team leader, as you are the more experienced one between the two of us, the natural leader who everyone already listens to over me, who can convince anyone of anything you want, just by your tone of voice!" The lack of sleep had clearly gotten to him.  
  
Damen looked at him like he was a puzzle to solve, and then laughed. "If that were true, you'd be out of that chair heading back to my place to eat with me."  
  
"Except you know I'm going to," Laurent retorted. "I just have to put up some sort of fight so as to not appear uncharacteristic." The fight was gone from Laurent as quick as it had come. He was already standing.  
  
"Oh, are you finally admitting you're a difficult person?"  
  
Laurent quipped in return, "You can't possibly be suggesting you didn't already know that." He played with the strap of his messenger bag, suddenly feeling young. He closed his laptop and they walked out of the room.  
  
Damen laughed again, easy and uncomplicated. "Oh, I've known. I just wasn't sure you knew." Damen locked the office behind them, and they headed towards the elevators.  
  
The following silence was comfortable, and unstrained.  
  
Laurent followed Damen to his apartment, and they ate take-out while watching a comedy show they both enjoyed, and it was easy, and nice, and they didn't have sex. Laurent stayed over again, and stayed until morning.  
  
-  
  
Except later they did have sex, and Damen took him apart slowly with his tongue, and Laurent thought he was going to crawl out of his skin with desperation, clinging to the bars on Damen's bed, feeling too many emotions that he didn't want to feel.  
  
The prep took less time and Laurent opened easily for Damen, and he didn't know what to think about that, except he did know, he knew exactly why. He made himself not think of anything but the feel of Damen inside of him, the weight of Damen's body over his, the feel of Damen’s hands gripping him tight and moving him to orgasm.  
  
Later, as Damen fell asleep beside him, Laurent realized this was getting too complicated.  
  
He stayed until morning, as if trying to soak as much of Damen's warmth into him as possible.  
  
-  
  
The next day Laurent and Damianos were alone in the office during their lunch break."So I don't know how you feel about breakfast foods, but it's really the only food I can cook decently, and I'm thinking syrup is really versatile, if you want— "  
  
"We have to stop this," Laurent interrupted, forcing the words out, like ripping off a band-aid.  
  
Damianos grinned, as if he thought Laurent was making a joke, but then as Laurent's face stayed expressionless, it slowly slipped off. "You're serious. Why? You didn't like the take-out I ordered? You hate breakfast food?"  
  
Laurent steeled himself, and schooled his face to make sure it gave nothing away. "Because I don’t actually like you, and this is a waste of our time."  
  
"No," Damianos said, interjecting harshly. "No, it's because you're starting to. This is because you still have the wrong idea about what happened with your brother."  
  
"You ruined him!" The words just fell out of his mouth; Laurent was unable to keep them in. "I can't just forgive that, forgive you. I don’t care how good of a fuck you are. It was wrong the first time and I shouldn’t have kept it going. But I'm ending it now."  
  
Damianos, ever expressive, looked hurt. Laurent couldn't make sense of it. They weren't building anything; they fucked sometimes, that was it.  
  
"For someone so obsessed with details," Damianos said, "you sure are missing a few." But he walked out the room before Laurent could say anything, and didn’t come back until everyone else was there. He didn’t look at Laurent for the rest of the day.  
  
Laurent had gotten what he wanted. So why didn't he feel like he did?  
  
-  
  
"Uncle Laurent! Look! I drew you a picture!"  
  
"Oh, did you, Acelin?" Laurent focused his attention on the little blonde boy standing excitedly in front of him. "You've got to let me see."  
  
He put his glass of wine on the side table and faced his nephew. He still never drank—except for that fateful night—so it earned him a look from Auguste when he asked for a glass that night with dinner.  
  
His nephew was holding the picture behind his back, and brought it forth in a grand presentation with a wide smile and plenty of pride. It was easy to smile back at him, to exclaim that it was an excellent picture of… a cow with a beard, and say honestly that he would put it with the others on his refrigerator at home.  
  
Acelin then started going on about his day in pre-school, and how he thought cows were the best animal, and he couldn't wait to see a chocolate cow, and Philippe at school was mean to him because he liked lions best, but Sara's macaroni turtle was the best out of all of them, and would Uncle Laurent like to play cars with him?  
  
Before Laurent could turn him down easy, Auguste's wife Aloisa waddled through the door, hand resting against her very pregnant belly. "Ace, tell Uncle Laurent good night. It's your bed time."  
  
"Ah, okay," the boy said, pouting but listening. "Good night, Uncle Laurent."  
  
Laurent gave Aloisa a grateful look over the boy's shoulder as he hugged him goodnight, and took up his wine again as they left the room.  
  
"You've going to be a big help when your sister arrives, right, little man?" Laurent heard Aloisa say as they walked down the hallway. Acelin answered joyfully in the affirmative, and Laurent grinned before taking a sip of his wine, curling up on the couch.  
  
Laurent could hear Auguste walking in, probably had stopped to kiss Acelin on the top of his head and his wife on the cheek and then Laurent found his brother sitting across from him with a serious look on his face.  
  
Taking in Auguste's solemn expression, Laurent said, "Not that I don’t appreciate these invites over to your realm of domesticity, but I get the impression you invited me over this time for a specific reason."  
  
Auguste took a deep breath, and looked as if he were arranging his thoughts. Laurent took another sip, feeling like he'd need it for whatever his brother was going to say.  
  
"I'll just come out and say it. You have been—insufferable the past couple of weeks, even for me. And you know I have a high tolerance for your bullshit."  
  
Laurent looked at him blandly.  
  
"I tried to speak to Damen, but he refused, so I ended up talking to Nikandros instead to try and figure out what the hell has been going on with you.”  
  
Laurent tried to act casual, drinking more of his wine, but felt something like shame wash over him, for even affecting his brother with his foul mood. He could only imagine what Nikandros said to Auguste, or what Damen was saying about him to Nikandros.  
  
Auguste continued. "Nikandros and I know that you and Damen had been having sex for awhile. Damen didn't tell Nikandros either, in case you were wondering. But you, little brother, are not nearly as secretive as you think you are, and Damen's especially an open book. My guess is it started on the cruise? Either way, I didn't say anything because you clearly didn't want anyone to know, but he was making you happy."  
  
Laurent scoffed. "Look, I won't deny that we— but he was just a—"  
  
Auguste held up his hand. "I don't know want to know. I just want to know why you ended it."  
  
Laurent sighed in frustration. "I ended it because it wasn't anything. It was barely anything at all. I understand that I've been harsher the past couple of weeks, but if you're insinuating it's because I'm no longer— messing around— with Damen, that's ludicrous. You know very well we have a major deadline coming up, and it's vital for our company to shine here."  
  
Auguste didn't believe him. "And so it had nothing to do with Damen trying to get a little more serious with you, and you still being upset with him because of what you _think_ he did to me?"  
  
Laurent's face hardened. "That's not fair."  
  
"You're right, but it's not fair to Damen."  
  
" _How_ can you be defending him!"  
  
"He saved my life, Laurent. You're holding a grudge against him on false information."  
  
That stopped Laurent short. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Auguste ran his hands over his face, then glanced across the room towards the hallway that led to where his wife was probably reading a bedtime story to their son. After a few moments, he turned back to Laurent.  
  
"Just, listen to me until I finish, okay?"  
  
Laurent nodded. "Alright."  
  
Auguste began, "You know most of what happened. Our uncle ran our family company into the ground, cheated from clients, lied, and ruined our reputation. My only goal upon taking over the reins of the company was to build us back up. I changed our firm's name, I cleaned out house, and oversaw everything. This was before you graduated and joined us. I took on small projects I could handle with a limited staff, and dedicated everything to doing them perfectly. I'm still amazed Aloisa stuck with me during those times."  
  
Auguste took a deep breath, a faint smile on his lips at the thought, then it was gone. "And then you know I caught wind of a much bigger client, and I did everything I could to get it. I put everything on the line; I even cancelled our smaller jobs, gambling the future of our company on getting this project. And then you know it went to Akielos, under the new leadership of Damen. But they got it fair and square. Damen had better ideas than me; the client chose him. There was no dishonesty or cheating there."  
  
Laurent sneered, and opened his mouth to refute that, but Auguste looked at him imploringly. "Let me continue. You promised you wouldn't interrupt until the end."  
  
"Fine," Laurent said.  
  
"Because this part I didn't tell you," Auguste said, looking away. "That was the lowest moment of my life. Aloisa had just gotten pregnant, and I felt like the world's biggest failure. The company was going under. I had gambled everything I had, and lost. I was about to become a bankrupt, unemployed father. I was devastated."  
  
Auguste turned back and caught Laurent's eyes. "I wasn't going to do it, you know." Laurent's brows bunched together in confusion. "But Damen saw me standing on the ledge of the building."  
  
"What? Auguste—!"  
  
Auguste kept talking, as if he had to get the words out now or he never would. "He had come by our offices to be a good sport about the whole thing, when he saw me. I didn't even notice anyone was up there with me until I was suddenly staring up at the sky, the breath knocked out of me. He had tackled me back, literally. And then over the next couple of months, I started getting some of Akielos' old clients; some of their smaller ones, you know? I knew what Damen was doing, but he denied everything. I hated taking his pity, but it saved our company, and allowed me to provide for our family, and we stayed afloat. Because of Damen. He's a good guy, Laurent."  
  
Laurent was silent for a long time, digesting all of the new information, mapping it to past memories, allowing it to make sense. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to figure out how to best respond to his brother's confession. He was eventually left with only one question.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"  
  
"I guess I just didn't want you to know I'd been so weak," Auguste admitted.  
  
"Idiot," Laurent said softly, since he didn't know what else to say.  
  
"But now you know everything, and you can stop being upset with Damen over something he didn't even do. He never deserved your hate."  
  
Not wanting to think about that quite yet, Laurent responded, "If you ever do something like that again, I'll kill you myself."  
  
"I wasn't going to do it!"  
  
They spent the rest of the evening in easy banter, Aloisa joining them, and it felt good to spend time with his brother.  
  
But the new knowledge settled heavily over him, and he thought about it for days.  
  
-  
  
Laurent wasn't often in the position where he had to apologize, and as such he didn't really know how to go about doing it.  
  
So it was with some amount of awkwardness that Laurent found himself standing outside of Damen's apartment one evening with a bag of groceries in his hand, staring at Damen as Damen stared back.  
  
"You're not allergic to anything, right?" Laurent asked brusquely.  
  
"Uh, no," Damen answered.  
  
"Good." And with that Laurent let himself into the apartment, heading straight for the kitchen and hiding his warming face. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"  
  
At Damen's silence, Laurent looked back, and followed Damen's gaze to the half-eaten pizza in the box resting on his coffee table. Damen looked back at Laurent and shook his head. "Nope."  
  
"Great," Laurent said gamely. "I'm actually a rather decent cook, and make a good lemon pepper chicken."  
  
Damen came to stand at the doorway, his arms crossed as he took in Laurent moving around his kitchen. "Not that I mind having you in my kitchen making me food, but… have I missed something?"  
  
Laurent kept his face down as he started cutting into the chicken. "Auguste may have spoken to me about some misconceptions I perhaps had."  
  
"Uh huh. So… this is apology chicken?"  
  
Laurent forced the word out. "Yes."  
  
"Is this apology chicken so we'll hook up some more, or…" Damen trailed off, as if he didn't quite know how to put it into words.  
  
Laurent certainly didn't.  
  
"I am cooking for you at your apartment," he said, hoping it conveyed what he really meant.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Laurent braved a glance up, and saw that Damen had a small smile on his face, almost shy, and it made Laurent feel unsettled. Damen reached over and kissed Laurent softly, on the top of his head. Laurent's stomach flipped, because there was nothing remotely sexual about that kiss and no one could pretend there was.  
  
"I cannot wait to eat your chicken," Damen said. "I have some salad in the fridge, do you want me to put that together or have you brought sides, too?"  
  
"Oh, I brought over some asparagus, so preheat the oven and get out your olive oil for me."  
  
"Your wish, my command. So no salad then, since asparagus is enough vegetable for one meal."  
  
"Yes, I suppose. You don't happen to have anything else to go with this, do you?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," Damen answered. "I actually baked some bread just yesterday."  
  
"You can bake?"  
  
"I am a man of many talents." Damen leaned over to smirk at him. "Stick around and I'll show you more of them."  
  
"If you're going to make _another_ comment about your tongue being in my ass…"  
  
"Look, I'm just saying, it's one of my many redeeming qualities. I don’t remember you having any complaints."  
  
"Your tongue was in my ass, of course I didn't have any complaints."  
  
"I believe my point has been made."  
  
"I'm not even sure you had a point. Did you preheat the oven yet?"  
  
"Oh, shit."  
  
"How about, just in general, you talk less and do as I say."  
  
Laurent looked up from mixing the spices together to peek at Damen's face, but he just looked hopelessly fond, and Laurent's heart fluttered ridiculously.  
  
"As you wish, sweetheart." 

 

TWO YEARS LATER  
  
"I think you've been staring for an hour now."  
  
Laurent turned his head and saw Damen approach him. He went back to staring as Damen wrapped his arms around him from behind, and rested his chin on the top of Laurent's head.  
  
"I'm entitled to stare," Laurent said. "Do you think the first A is crooked?"  
  
Laurent felt Damen shake his head. "No. It isn't. We literally designed the building ourselves; it's perfect."  
  
"And it's still a good idea?"  
  
"A bit late now, with our names on the lease."  
  
"That's a fair point."  
  
Laurent felt Damen's laugh first, before he heard it. Damen took Laurent's hand and started walking them towards the building where ARTES ARCHITECTS hung large and stylishly off-center. Laurent felt against his palm the warm metal of Damen's ring, and absent-mindedly played with his matching one on the hand not currently encased in Damen's.  
  
"Come on, Auguste and Nikandros are waiting for us inside. We have our first official project."  
  
Damen was right, as usual. It was time to get to work.


End file.
